


Shining With Reflected Light

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Deviates From Canon, Gen, Non-Noldor Followers of the Fëanorians, Original Character-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 16:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12370062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: At the end of the First Age, Curufin's children and the few surviving Fëanorian followers are left to pick up the pieces.





	Shining With Reflected Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amyfortuna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyfortuna/gifts).



“It feels so much like being in tata's presence it hurts,” Tatharwenyo said in a choked whisper, staring down at the Silmaril, a spring of light on the grass between his crossed legs.

Amanísë bent and took the gem away from him, but without looking at it.

“Of course it does,” she said, and her voice wavered a little. “We are his grandchildren. Father always said that it was tata's soul that coloured his dreams, while he grew in his mother's womb, remember? No man has given so much of himself in the birth of his children.”

“Your father gave much of himself too,” Midhion remarked matter-of-factly: Amanísë was a female version of Curufin, as graceful, as sharp, as cunning. 

Amanísë smiled wistfully and lowered her gaze, hesitating. “...Father always regarded himself as little more than an extension of tata. A third arm, perhaps.”

Midhion nodded: he had known Curufin well, and had seen enough of Curufin and Fëanor together to realise how close they were even without his daughter telling him now, at the end of all things. “May I?”

Amanísë hesitated again, then put the Silmaril on his outstretched palm.

Midhion bent over it, inspecting it. Rainbows flashed in front of his eyes, swelling and waning like running water as he turned the jewel and sunlight bounced on it. His brow furrowed while he tried to make out the pattern created by its many facets: the surface seemed to change shape altogether as one watched it. “A treasure truly worth spilling blood over,” he said, a frisson running through him as he uttered the words.

“Yours too, if you misappropriate it,” Amanísë jested, her tone a little forced, sitting down next to him on the large fallen tree that served as a bench. 

“I would never dare. I made a pact with your grandfather.”

Tatharwenyo stood up from the grass, brushing dirt off him and stretching his long lanky limbs in a way that drew a mournful sigh from Elthedir, who had been Maedhros's second-in-command and who had loved Maedhros like the brother he had lost to Angband.

Tatharwenyo brushed his wavy mass of hair away from his face and rubbed his eyes dry. “I'm going to see how Mother is doing,” he said and quickly turned, striding towards the largest tent in the encampment.

“How is Maglor?” Midhion asked, watching Tatharwenyo as he threaded through the groups of Lindi who were getting ready to leave after fighting for the sons of Fëanor to the very end. The Lindi who had decided to stay were setting up campfires for the evening, singing cheerful songs of mourning – or mournful hymns of victory, sometimes no-one apart from the Green Elves themselves could tell with any certainty.

“He still refuses to speak, but Luchanar is looking after him, so everything should be well.”

“I can't wait to ask him about this thing,” Midhion said, handing the Silmaril back to Amanísë.

“I do know many things about the Silmarils, you know. Tata let us play with them when we were children. Manarillë, who was born in Formenos, had them in her cradle. Iron vaults are for the...snotty brats who are too envious to accept the fact that they simply don't deserve to set their eyes on a Silmaril.”

Midhion threw his head back and laughed, and even Elthedir chuckled: 'snotty brat' was what Midhion himself had dubbed several members of the houses of Fingolfin and Finarfin.

“Though, yes, I suppose uncle Cáno is the best person to ask,” Amanísë sighed, clenching her hands around the Silmaril then daring to actually look at it for the first time in centuries. “I know he will draw wonders from it.” 

“He will, no doubt.”

The three sitting elves all started.

Amanísë turned, and glowered up at Luchanar.

Luchanar ducked his head in apology. His lips smiled, but his eyes predictably didn't, black eyes that looked the same as Caranthir's and seemed to bear out his claim that he was a child of Míriel by a man other than Finwë, a child born well before the Valar's promises had sundered the Tatyar. No-one had ever confirmed that allegation, but no-one had denied it either, and in the end it didn't matter, when Luchanar had proven to be such a devoted – and lethal – ally. 

“He's sleeping again now. He is exhausted more than anything else, so once he has had proper rest he will be his former self again, my beloved brother.”

Elthedir stiffened. “We should have ignored their orders. We should have followed them at a distance, at least.”

Midhion nodded.

“Yes, we should have,” Luchanar muttered. He grimaced up at the sun and pulled his large pointed hood over his head, hiding the top half of his face. He sat next to Amanísë, circled her waist with one arm and held her close. “Sorry, sister.”

Amanísë shook her head, and leaned gratefully into his side.

**Author's Note:**

> Though the idea of Sindar and Green Elves (= Lindi) fighting on the Fëanorians' side may seem absurd, it's the only possible way to explain how the Fëanorians still had an army large enough to attack Doriath (and Sirion) after all the losses they sustained, especially during the Dagor Bragollach and the Nirnaeth Arnoediad (as well as Celegorm and Curufin's people staying in Nargothrond - though it can also be assumed that those joined with Celegorm and Curufin again at some point).
> 
> I like to imagine that Curufin and his wife had more than one child, Celebrimbor being the only one who made it to the history books because he made the 'right' choice (as far as I remember, the first mention ever of Celebrimbor is when he renounces his father and uncle, the reader doesn't even know Curufin is married until then).
> 
> I daresay not all the locals in Beleriand liked and/or were that impressed by the Nolofinweans and/or Arafinweans.
> 
> "Tata" is a Quenya word for 'father/daddy', but I use it to mean 'grandfather' here. 
> 
> Meaning of the names:
> 
> Midhion = Son of dew  
> Elthedir = Dreamer (male)  
> Luchanar = Snake-Brother (goes by a Sindarin name even though he's an Avar, for reasons)
> 
> Amanísë = I honestly picked this name more because I like the sound, the best translation is something like 'she who smells sweetly and is blessed' I guess  
> Tatharwenyo = Young willow  
> Manarillë = Good/fortunate brilliance


End file.
